


Anywhere, I Would Have Followed You

by RyloKen



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: 5+1 Things, Drabble rules more like guidelines anyway, Drabbles, F/M, Go Play the Game, Spoilers if you haven't played the game, angst if you squint, only not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:02:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyloKen/pseuds/RyloKen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Alessandra questioned what she felt for Anders.</p><p>And one time it was dangerously obvious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anywhere, I Would Have Followed You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obvious_apostate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obvious_apostate/gifts).



I

Alessandra didn’t believe in love at first sight. Lust often bloomed rather early, but it was not something she often felt burning low in the belly. Alessandra wasn’t a romantic, she didn’t dream about a knight in shining armour, didn’t pant after a fairy tale life. She was practical, she was methodical. If she found someone attractive, she made it known. Sex was something to relieve that impossible itch. Love was never a part of it, and it certainly wasn’t going to happen just by glancing at someone.

That was why it hit her hard when it happened.

She hadn’t expected much when she’d wandered into the shithole under Lowtown, had expected even less when she’d wandered the winding alleys in search of a clinic. She tried to pretend the place in question would be more than a hole-in-the-wall, but even she didn’t have that much of an imagination. A hole-in-the-wall was what she found, one that stunk of piss and dead people, and she promised herself she’d rather jump from the balcony just outside and to the left than sit on what was passing for a gurney. 

If Alessandra had one skill she prized over all, it was her ability to lie her ass off and look honest while doing it. If anyone had asked her what she’d thought, she’d of told them she thought it was nice, humble, maybe even quaint. She’d be thinking the clinic was no less of a crap hole than the rest of Darktown and churning over ideas on how to get away with burning the whole place down.

Good intentions kept her from grabbing the lit lantern and setting a fire. The Warden with the shittily cut hair and eyes that melted the soul kept her civil. 

And maybe a little too warm between the thighs. 

Definitely too tight in the chest.

 

 

 

 

II

Anders was charming. Alessandra had known her fair share of handsome men, but she’d never hated any of them for it. Anders, though, was so charming and handsome she couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss him or punch him in the face. He was kind and selfless, a little obsessive about certain things she was more laid-back about, but it was kind of sexy.

She wasn’t sure when his stupid haircut had become endearing, or when she’d started yearning for one of his rare smiles. He was broad in a way that left her mush below the neck, but confused at the same time because she’d seen broad men before and had never found it appealing. The way he walked was too confident for a guy who lived in a hovel, and the way he always stood so straight had her feeling like a total slob with the amount of time she spent slouching. He told her he liked the way she was so at ease with everything, which only made her feel like slamming his face into his bowl of questionable stew because she was anything but.

She didn’t know when his ridiculous love for cats had left her cooing over the evil little bastards whenever she saw one mooching food from whoever had any. She told herself she hadn’t gone soft, or insane, when three of the little blighters had mysteriously taken up residence in the dump they called home. Octavian didn’t seem to mind the attention, Uncle Gamlen whined like a bitch about the smell.

If any good came out of the new feline family members, it was that Anders seemed to perk up whenever she smuggled them into his clinic. He thought she was bringing him some friends to play with.

She was trying to give them away.

 

 

 

 

III

Anders liked to flirt. At first, Alessandra had flirted back, no big deal. But then it became more than a game and she’d stupidly fallen under whatever spell he was casting because his stupid face was all she could think about. Each word whispered into her ear when they huddled into a corner at the Hanged Man left her giddy, left her waiting for his next compliment. Worst of all, it left her high-strung and needy.

Working off the tension was impossible.

One would think owning a mansion in Hightown would have perks, but between a hovering mother, a nosy dwarven man-servant and his sneaky rune-crafting son, Alessandra was forced to sleep the urge off.

Alessandra was not a morning person.

 

 

 

 

IV

Alessandra very rarely let people into her life, let alone shithead mages who had a habit of leaving her breathless and jumbling her thoughts. Trying to pinpoint the exact moment she’d fallen for Anders was impossible. She’d woken up one day and he was just there, burrowed deep in her heart and her squishy bits. She tried not to think about how adorable he looked sprawled out on her bed, hair mussed and his back covered in bloody nail-marks. Watching him sleep should have made her feel perverse, but all it did was break her heart.

Anders was many things, healthy was not one of them.

It should have come as a shock when he professed his love for her, but she’d remained calm and mentioned sandwiches and promised herself she’d never say it back because people she loved had a habit of dying.

It wasn’t long before she broke her promise. 

 

 

 

 

V

Alessandra’s hands were stained with her mother’s blood. No matter how hard she scrubbed, it tainted her skin, tainted her mind. She should have seen it coming. First Carver, and then Bethany. It was only the natural course of her life that she should lose her mother, too. Her companions gave her the space she needed, unsure of how to help, unsure if they even could. Her tears were her own to shed, but it hurt less knowing she wasn’t alone.

Anders braved the storm, sat at her side and offered his shoulder.

She was not alone, not really, but how long would it take before Anders was gone too?

 

 

+

 

 

I

Kirkwall fell around them. Mages and Templars met in bloody battle, sword slicing flesh while flame singed metal. They stood upon the tip of a blade, the ultimate moment of decision.

The Chantry was gone.

The Grand Cleric murdered.

By a mage.

By Anders.

Everything poured into that one moment, that one choice. First Enchanter Orsino had fled, rushed off to ready the mages for a battle to save their lives. A battle they should never have been forced to fight. Knight-Commander Meredith was mad with rage over what had been done. Perhaps she had been mad long before Anders doomed them all, but now was the time she had reason to raise her blade and strike at the heart of the Circle.

Anders remained quiet. His mission was complete, he had succeeded. Alessandra felt as if a hand had reached into her heart and torn out her soul. He hadn’t told her, hadn’t trusted her. Her hand shook as she held her blade, her eyes blurred with tears of betrayal and heartbreak. He had his back to her, his head down. What little he said was lost on her, hazed over by the ringing in her ears. Everyone she ever loved had died, and now the final piece was her own to end.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you. It was nice to be happy…for a while.”

_You should have a normal life, not be tied down to a fugitive with no future._

Alessandra’s eyes fluttered closed, the war around her blending to white noise in her ears. He’d warned her, he’d promised he’d break her heart but she’d loved him anyway.

_I love you. I've been holding back from saying that._

Just as he’d loved her, despite what it would do to him if he ever lost her. Her breath caught in her chest, choked her for a moment before she opened her eyes, looked him over and tried not to break. He needed her strong, just as she needed him at her side.

“Justice must be dealt.”

His shoulders relaxed, drooped under the heavy weight of his coats, the heavy weight of burden. He turned to face her when the blade cluttered to the floor, his brows pinched. They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity before they were in each other’s arms, the kiss searing their souls. The tears that stained her cheeks were wiped away with gentle thumbs, their breath shared.

“But I will not be the one who deals it.”

The world around them burned, its people at war with each other, with themselves. Kirkwall was at the precipice of change, the world would follow.

Alessandra would not be facing it alone.

Nor would Anders.


End file.
